


This Thing Between Us, It's Strange

by Run_of_the_mill



Series: Bittersweet [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Characters to be added as they come, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I can be a slow updater, I just did that T-T, Just me being strange in general, Let Him Go, Let Him Gooooo, M/M, Nagini T-T, Sane-ish Voldemort, The Talk, The baby is here!!!, Yes it's involved somehow, a strange form of Stockholm Syndrome, hurhurhur, my funny is back, sorry in advance, tags to be added as the story progresses, the fluff and humor is pulling a vanishing act, weep weep sob sob crying sounds, why do I always do this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Run_of_the_mill/pseuds/Run_of_the_mill
Summary: Voldemort found out that Harry is a Horcrux in the Forbidden forest and has been keeping him and Nagini in the same bubble ever since





	1. Meh, There's Weirder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, please! I live for those!

“Do you love her?”, Harry asked. He was terribly curious and, after three days of saying nothing, words were fighting to burst out of his mouth.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”, Voldemort answered, raising a hairless eyebrow.

“Yes, but Nagini refuses to speak to me if I won’t speak to you.”, Harry huffed. “She’s a real bully, that snake.”

“How very Slytherin of you,” Voldemort chuckled. “To speak to me only to get Nagini to answer you. You like her?”

“She’s so nice when she’s not being a bully,” Harry answered. “Except when she calls me dinner. Then she’s a little less nice.”

“Well, I did promise you to her once upon a time,” Voldemort sighed as he turned his gaze back to his Death Eaters.

“Yes, whatever,” Harry said. “So? Do you love her? Bellatrix, I mean. You’ll not wiggle out of this, Tom. I heard very… not innocent sounds coming from your room last night.”

Harry had this terribly mischievous look in his eyes that Voldemort had often seen in the eyes of Gryffindor boys in his youth. The subject had almost always been pranks they had successfully pulled or the much less savory topic of how many girls they had shagged recently.

“Are you trying to have one of those Lion-House Girl talks with me?” Voldemort sneered. “Because, let me tell you that I found those to be terribly disgusting when I was younger. That idea has not changed in recent years.”

Harry turned around and floated on his back in the protective bubble he shared with Nagini. He regarded Voldemort upside down with a confused look in his eyes.

“What Lion-House Girl talks?” he asked. Voldemort clicked his tongue.

“Those talks about how many girls you’ve shagged recently.”

“Oh, those!” Harry exclaimed in sudden realisation. “Well, none recently. I’ve been a little too busy horcrux-hunting and Hermione isn’t exactly fair game. Ron likes her like that, y’know. So, around her it’s a ‘keep-your-hands-to-yourself’ policy”.

Voldemort made a noise of disgust and Harry frowned.

“Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’re really trying to make me believe that Slytherins never had these sorts of talk?” he snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“They didn’t after I rose to power in the House,” Voldemort snapped. “When I was King of Slytherin, women were treated with the respect they deserved!”

“Yeah, because you _so_ respect Bellatrix by taking advantage of her infatuation with you and fucking her without even having an ounce of feelings for her,” Harry hissed. “Hypocrite.”

“That’s it!” Voldemort snapped. “I’ll kill you, Potter.”

He dissolved the protective bubble and pointed his wand at Harry.

And if it wasn’t for the glee on Harry’s face, he really would have gone through with it.

But the moment he saw Harry’s smile, he immediately realised what he was doing and the protective bubble snapped back around the boy and the snake.

“Aww,” Harry muttered in disappointment. “It almost worked.”

Voldemort glared at him and darkened the bubble so that Harry and Nagini could only see and hear each other.

 _:You just_ had _to antagonise him, didn’t you?:_ the snake hissed. Harry chuckled.

 _:Well, you have to admit it was fun,:_ he hissed back.

She didn’t answer but Harry could feel Nagini’s mirth through the connection the three of them shared.

***

“I’ve never had a father, you know,” Harry suddenly pointed out. They were in the middle of yet another Death Eater meeting and Harry and Nagini were floating in circles around each other. Voldemort had recently widened the bubble to allow both the human and the snake enough room to play around. Nagini and Harry had taken to either chasing each other or trying out new and increasingly complicated floating patterns.

“Yes, I know,” Voldemort answered. “I was there when he died.”

“What is it? Is ickle wittle Potty missing his bwood twaitor daddy?”, Bellatrix asked, ever the demented devil spawn.

“Well, then take responsibility, damnit!” Harry proclaimed, ignoring the crazy woman. A few of the death eaters gasped while the rest looked at Harry like they were trying to decide if he was exceedingly brave or just plain stupid. Bellatrix cackled and fell over clutching her belly.

“What do you want me to do?” Voldemort asked, suddenly curious. “Play catch with you?”

“Well, that would be nice for starters.”, Harry answered. “Maybe we can play Quidditch too after the war is over.”

“That’s not going to work, Harry,” Voldemort sighed. “I’m not letting you out of the bubble.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said, excitedly. “How about you just make the bubble selectively permeable to a baseball or something?”

“What if someone tried to kill you with a baseball?”, Voldemort countered. Harry frowned.

“No offense, but you’re massively paranoid, dude,” Harry said. “How in the world would anyone be able to kill me with a baseball?”

“By throwing it hard enough at your windpipe or your spine,” Voldemort answered with finality.

“Oh,” Harry said, stupidly. “Fair enough. Well, how about making the bubble selectively permeable to a baseball that you throw?”

“What if someone polyjuiced themselves as me?”

“How though? You’ve got no hair.”

“You just need DNA for that, idiot. Even skin can provide that. Did you listen to your Potions Professor at all?”

“Nah. Neither the greasy git nor the fat walrus made me all that interested in the subject.”

Voldemort sighed and turned back to his meeting and paperwork. Each conversation with Potter seemed to lower his IQ by one or two points.

“C’mon!” Harry insisted. “Do something, anything, fatherly.”

“Fine,” Voldemort smiled evilly. Harry didn’t like where this was going at all. “Let’s have The Talk.”

This time, Bellatrix wasn’t the only one dying of laughter.

“I suppose I walked into that one on my own,” Harry muttered, sullenly.

“Yes, dear boy,” Voldemort answered. “Yes, you did.”

Harry groaned and started spinning around in the bubble as he settled in for the long and embarrassing conversation that was coming. His cheeks were already pink and seemed to be reddening at an alarming rate.

“My child,” Voldemort began, smile widening by the minute. “A boy your age will certainly start feeling certain urges that he will be hard pressed to explain. You must have noticed some changes in your body. Boys especially will have a more obvious physical reaction than girls. You see, sometimes you will think about a girl, and your… genitalia will have a strange reaction.”

Harry smiled wickedly. Voldemort had just given him a mighty fine opportunity. _Hurhurhur. This is gonna be beautiful_ , he thought as he mentally rubbed his hands together.

“I have a question,” he interrupted Voldemort. The man’s eyes narrowed but he allowed the question.

“That… strange reaction… Is it normal for me to have it for boys too?” he asked innocently. Voldemort turned a violent shade of purple that was vaguely reminiscent of Uncle Vernon. Bellatrix howled with laughter.

“I think we’re going to choke her to death at this rate,” Harry noted with a vindictive smile. “Die of laughter! Die of laughter, Bellatrix!”, he goaded, waving his hands as if he were holding cheerleader pompoms. It only made her laugh harder and he thought he might actually kill her of laughter. Harry sincerely believed that Sirius would be proud of that accomplishment.

Voldemort glared at him.

“If she doesn’t die, she’ll be my mother,” Harry explained. “I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”

Once more, Voldemort darkened their bubble and Harry and Nagini were left alone to laugh and resume their games.

 _:She wouldn’t be your mother:_ , Nagini hissed. : _I have already claimed you as_ my _hatchling.:_

***

Voldemort stared at the sleeping boy and the snake floating in their protective bubble. Every time he looked at them, his being was filled with a barely describable feeling. There was an intense need to protect but there was also something else that he did not truly know how to identify.

 _:Wake up, you little menace,:_ he hissed at the boy.

 _:What?:_ Harry hissed back, a little irritated. _:Nagini and I played all night waiting for you to come back. Let me sleep a little.:_

 _:Yessss,:_ Nagini added, petulantly. _:You didn’t think about us when you were off mating with the crazy two-legger. So, don’t think about us now and go away.:_

 _:But I have important news,:_ Voldemort hissed. _:I thought you’d like to hear this, the two of you.:_

Harry opened a bleary eye, intrigued. Voldemort seemed to be bouncing.

 _:Nagini,:_ he started, warily. _:Nagini, wake up. He’s bouncing. He’s bouncing. Something is off. I think someone’s polyjuiced themselves as him!:_

 _:Don’t be stupid,:_ Nagini answered. _:They wouldn’t be able to speak in parselspeech:_

 _:True,:_ Harry said slowly. _:Oh, he must’ve been imperiused to act stupid, Nagini. What are we gonna do? We can’t allow the Death Eaters to see him like that!:_

 _:Oh, dear.:_ Nagini hissed. _:You’re right. What shall we do?:_

 _:Ha. Ha,:_ Voldemort hissed as he rolled his eyes. _:It’s so funny I’m rolling on the floor right now.:_

 _:Well, do you blame us?:_ Harry asked

 _:No, I suppose not,:_ Voldemort sighed.

 _:Well?:_ Harry prompted. _:What’s this amazing news that has the Dark lord bouncing like a teenage girl?:_ Voldemort cast him an irritated look.

 _:Bella is pregnant.:_ , he hissed. _:We’ll soon have a new member to add to our little family.:_

 _:Really?:_ Nagini asked. _:I’ll have a new hatchling to care for soon?:_

 _:Yes,:_ Voldemort answered, pleased that Nagini was taking the news so well. His buzz was, however, immediately killed upon seeing Harry’s expression. The boy was scowling and seemed to be looking anywhere except at Voldemort.

_:What’s wrong, Harry?:_

_:Wow. Just. Wow.:_ Harry seethed. _:You’re the one who was giving me The Talk the other day. And here you are, getting that crazy bitch of a woman pregnant. Have you never heard of condoms? Or contraception of any form?:_

 _:Harry,:_ Voldemort started, admittedly a little confused. _:What’s really wrong? I thought you’d be happy about this. You always complain about how poor conversation Nagini and I make. You could turn a baby into the perfect conversationalist, couldn’t you?:_

 _:Ha! As if her mother would let that child anywhere near me!:,_ Harry hissed, a pained expression on his face. _:You’ll spend all your time with them and you’ll forget all about us. Parents only care for their own children! Who gives a fuck about orphans?!:_

 _:You’re worried I won’t see you again?:_ Voldemort asked ** _._** _:Why? You hate me and everything I stand for. You would gladly kill me, given the opportunity. So, why do you care if I never see you again?:_

 _:Fuck off!:_ , Harry answered.

_:You’re being a jealous brat, Harry. Don’t worry, dearest child. A new baby won’t diminish my love for you. My heart will only get bigger to accommodate the both of you.:_

That seemed to shock Harry right out of his tantrum. The change of expression was so fast that it had Voldemort laughing.

 _:I believe that’s what parents say to a jealous firstborn,:_ he eventually explained. Harry’s glare was worth it. _:But on a more serious and sincere note, I will make you an oath, my boy. A wizard’s oath. I will never neglect you on purpose because of this child. So mote it be!:_

 _:That’s a stupid oath,:_ Harry finally said after a long moment of internally debating the situation. Unless you were a Dursley sort of person, no one ever neglected anyone on purpose.  _:But I accept the apology. Wear a goddamn condom next time! It’s not even hard to find. Go to the drugstore. There’s all sorts of flavours.:_

And before Harry could start listing all the ones he knew, Voldemort darkened the bubble again. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t go on to educate Nagini on the merits of family planning. She would become insufferable.

***

Recently, Harry and Nagini had become so very annoying. They were at yet another Death Eater meeting and the two horcruxes had taken to glaring at Bella’s swollen belly, arms crossed. Well, Harry had his arms cross. Nagini was contorted in what, Voldemort assumed, was her equivalent of crossed arms.

 _:There was no need to include_ her _in our family,:_ Nagini had hissed, one day. _:Harry could very well have provided you with a healthy hatchling.:_

Harry had blushed and slapped her upside the head. _:I’m male,:_ he’d hissed quietly.

 _:There are potions to get men pregnant, Harry.:_ Voldemort had teased. He had been surprised when Harry had simply blushed a deeper red and turned away.

Nagini and Harry had recently figured out how to get the bubble to go where they wanted it to go. Now they knew how to go sulk in a corner or give Voldemort the cold shoulder when they were less than pleased with him.

Presently, they were circling around Bellatrix in a rather annoying and, mildly, threatening manner. The witch seemed to be minimally bothered by it. In fact, she seemed rather happy to be the object of interest of her Lord’s treasures.

“Ooh! The baby kicked,” Bella suddenly exclaimed. The horcruxes stopped circling and stared at her. “Would you like to touch, wittle Potty?”

Harry pursed his lips and looked at Voldemort with an expression that clearly stated: _Can I?_

“No,” Voldemort stated with finality. “He’s not allowed out of the bubble and you know that, Bella.”

“Ugh. Spoilsport!” Harry groaned. Nagini hissed her agreement and they went to what seemed to have become their favorite corner of the room to sulk in.

Bellatrix cackled.

“You know they’re trying to figure out a way to make you lose the child, right?” Voldemort stated more than asked.

That seemed to wipe the smirk right off her face.


	2. Just Smile and It'll Go Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I always try to go for these happy stories but my inner writer be like "Bitch, naw! We write sweet shit that leaves a bad aftertaste in everyone's mouth, here". Which is why this happened. Enjoy. (This is all because i was listening to Melted by AKMU. I brought this on myself)

“I have smile lines,” Harry said.

“Bravo,” Voldemort answered, distractedly.

“Bitch, no need to be sassy.” Harry retorted, eliciting a few horrified gasps from the assembled Death Eaters. “I just meant that, with the amount of crying I do, it’s kinda amazing I have smile lines.”

“What does Harry Potter, Saviour of the Light side, Dumbledore’s Golden Boy, and Hero of the Wizarding world have to cry about?” Voldemort questioned. He was quite annoyed that the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Aggravate was acting like anything he went through could, even remotely, compare to what Voldemort himself had been through when he was still little, helpless, Thomas Riddle.

“Well, for starters,” Harry began. “I have been hunted almost all my life by this stark raving mad, dark wizard who killed my parents and doomed me to a childhood spent at the mercy of magic-hating muggles who tried their best to neglect and abuse the “freak” out of me. How’s that for a crying reason?”

“They abused you?” Voldemort asked, a hairless eyebrow raised in surprise.

“They didn’t beat me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Harry answered. “No, they simply locked me in a cupboard under the stairs whenever they had visit and told me to act like I did not exist. The cupboard was also my bedroom until the Hogwarts letters started to come. Then, Uncle Vernon got scared Dumbledore was gonna come along and rip him a new one, so he moved me to the smallest bedroom in No. 4, Privet Drive. But it had prison bars on the windows and seven locks, from ceiling to floor, on the door with a cat flap to pass me food when Aunt Petunia remembered to feed me. Funny story, the Weasley boys ripped the bars off the window in second year. I have to tell you that story one day.”

“I see,” Voldemort said.

Nagini wrapped herself around Harry, probably in an effort to comfort him. It worked to some extent. It wasn’t like Harry was especially miffed at the abuse anymore. At the end of it all, the Dursleys had showed, in their strange-ass manner, that they did care a little bit about Harry. Hell, Dudley had even given him a Dursley’s equivalent of ‘I love you’. Harry was loath to admit it, but he did rather miss the baby whale.

_:I demand that you avoid killing them,:_ Harry whispered. He was certain that Voldemort had heard it though. The scaly git immediately darkened Harry and Nagini’s bubble.

***

“Do you dance?” Harry asked. Nagini wasn’t in the bubble that night. She had been getting testy of late, confined in the bubble, unable to hunt. Voldemort had cast a strong protection spell (almost as foolproof as the bubble, but not as good) on her and let her out to finally stretch her scales. Harry had asked if the same courtesy could be extended to him but had quickly shut up when Voldemort had given him The Look. Harry thought Voldemort would have made a great mother.

“Yes,” Voldemort answered. “When I was your age, we had to learn ballroom dancing to be able to survive in the wizarding world.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Harry said, holding up a sleeping Delphini as if he were Rafiki presenting Simba to the world. “Your daughter has just been born. Won’t you do a happy dance?”

Voldemort sighed. He could see in Harry’s eyes that the boy genuinely thought that dancing was the right thing to do to celebrate the little horror’s birth. Personally, Voldemort would rather celebrate a cow expelling poop from its derriere than this little demon who would be hellbent on stealing all of his limited sleep time.

She already seemed to be cutting quite a bit into Peace with Harry time.

Yes, Voldemort was jealous.

He would admit it, but only to himself. No one else needed to know, especially not Harry or Nagini. He would never hear the end of it. He picked the child from Harry’s arms and handed it over to its house elf nanny.

“I would’ve,” Harry said as he watched the baby go. “If it had been my kid born, I would’ve done a happy dance. Then, I would’ve named it James Sirius, if it was a boy, or Lily Luna, if it was a little girl.”

“You want children? At your age?” Voldemort asked, surprised. He had it on good authority that children, these days, did not even think about having their own progeny until they were in their late twenties. Hence, it came as a wonder that Harry had already even gone so far as to choose names for his.

“It shouldn’t bewilder you so,” Harry answered, almost poetically. “I’m an orphan that grew up with a less-than-loving family. I think it’s natural that I would want a family to love the sort of love I’ve always longed for. No thanks to you.”

The last part was added with a bit of venom and Voldemort looked away as a strangely uncomfortable feeling curled in his gut and chest.

“I can’t have that anymore,” Harry lamented. “I’ve wanted this with Ginny since sixth year, y’know. I wanted it even as I was running from you, hunting for horcruxes, not knowing if I would survive tomorrow. I always had this strange, stupid hope that someday, somehow, I would be allowed to finally be happy. No you to worry about, no world to save. Just me, Ginny and our kids. But I can’t have it anymore, can I? Not from this bubble.”

It felt like a white-hot knife was being slowly twisted in Voldemort’s gut.

“Why the Weasley girl?” he finally asked.

Harry regarded him for a while before answering with a soft and tender smile, the likes of which Voldemort had never seen directed at himself.

“Because she’s Ginny,” he stated, simply. “Because there’s no one as special as Ginny in this world. There is no one I have ever loved as much as Ginny and there will be no one I can ever love as much. She’s the love of my life, my soulmate.”

Voldemort sat in silence for a while after that passionate confession. The knife twisted and twisted. He was angry, hurt, heart-broken. He wanted to kill the wench just to take the option from Harry. He wanted the boy to only look at him like that, to only talk of him like that. But he knew that, if he hurt that girl, Harry would be lost to him forever. Instead, he tried something new.

“I could let you go,” he whispered. Harry’s shock was bittersweet. Did he truly think so little of Voldemort? “I could let you go back to your little blood-traitor girl. But I want something in exchange.”

“What do you want?” Harry asked, jumping at the opportunity to be free. _To see her,_ Voldemort thought bitterly.

“Would you give me anything?”

“Yes, whatever you want. I’ll even make you a wizard’s oath if you want.”

“I could ask you to give up this war and leave this country forever, you know?”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

“You’d abandon all your people just for your freedom?”

“It’s impossible that they have no other way to defeat you than a 17-year-old boy who relies too much on luck.”

Voldemort chuckled and put his chin in his hand.

“There’s no need for a wizard’s oath. I’ll simply let you consider it.”

“Yes, but what _do_ you want?” Harry asked impatiently.

“I want one night with you.”

“You spend every night with me,” Harry said with a confused frown.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Voldemort answered, evenly.

Harry blushed a deep red and Voldemort darkened his bubble to allow him time to think it through.

***

Harry had mulled over it all night long and hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in between. He barely even noticed when Voldemort lightened the bubble. They were in another Death Eater meeting and Nagini had come back. She was currently wrapped around Harry’s shoulders and the boy was absently floating Delphini in circles around his head. The baby was giggling like there was nothing better to do. Must've inherited the insane cackling from her annoying mother. At least the latter was still confined to her bed, recovering from child birth.

The child cackled again and Voldemort felt like scratching his ear drums out of his ears. Stupid thing had only been born a day, at most, and was already wrecking his life. She had spent last night crying until her nanny had come to fetch Voldemort because she was at her wits’ end. The little tyke only calmed down when she was finally in her father’s arms. Voldemort had brought her back to his room and kept her there. But of course, a baby that young wouldn’t sleep through the night. She had woken up over and over again, needing to be fed, changed, soothed, etc. Voldemort cursed Harry for his luck. The boy couldn't hear the baby in his darkened bubble. He was probably sleeping soundly.

Voldemort was tired and his patience had very short limits. For their own sakes, the Death Eaters had best have very good news.

“M-my l-lord,” Avery stuttered. “The, er, the boy’s mudblood and, um, blood traitor ha-have eluded us o-once more.”

“ _Crucio,_ ” he whispered. Useless fool.

_:My mudblood and blood traitor?:_ Harry asked, amused.

_:Quiet! I don’t have the patience for this today.:_

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, before turning back to the baby, who was now being made to do back flips.

_:Yesss,:_ the boy hissed. _:But it has to be tonight. And I want to be allowed to finish my education with Ron and Hermione. My freedom is too cheap a price for my virginity.:_

_:You’re… You’re a virgin?:_ Voldemort asked, dumbly. _:But… The other day, didn’t you say you had slept around in school?:_

_:With women, dumbass:_ Harry retorted. _:You’d be my first man. I’m a virgin, back there.:_

Voldemort turned pink and Harry laughed a happy sound the older man had never heard from him before.

_:What is this about?:_ Nagini questioned.

_:We’re planning a mating ritual for tonight,:_ Harry replied, a hint of mischief in his voice.

_:Ooooh, are you going to try for a hatchling tonight?:_ The snake was twisting around in, what Voldemort assumed to be excitement.

_:What? No!:_ Harry immediately denied. Nagini was disappointed but it was not enough to dampen her mood at the idea that her master would finally mate with Harry and cast that crazy two-legger out of their lives forever. Harry was nicer and a much better prospect. It didn’t hurt that her master had recently taken to staring at Harry the way Nagini had stared at her dearest Rudra when he was still alive.

Yes, Harry was acceptable.

_:If this is happening tonight,:_ Voldemort hissed. _:Then, would you mind terribly if I romanced you properly before taking away your virginity?:_

Harry stared at him in a mixture of confusion and wariness.

_:Why would you go that far? I thought you’d just take what you wanted and be done with it.:_

_:You’re worth more than that.:_ Voldemort answered before darkening the bubble.

_:Only you.:_

***

Later that night, all Death Eaters were dismissed from Riddle manor. The house elves had decorated the dining room with candles and red flowers to give the room a romantic feeling.

As Harry walked through the red petals strewn everywhere on the floors, he wondered how many flowers had given their lives for this. Even when he was trying to make Harry happy, it seemed that the Dark Lord was unable to not remind the boy of his murderous tendencies. Thus, it was with the feeling that he was walking through blood that Harry made his way to the head of the table where Voldemort was waiting for him, seated in his throne as usual.

Harry noticed that the seat perpendicular to Voldemort’s could only be qualified as a throne. It was smaller and more delicate, but it was definitely a throne. Perhaps for an equal. Harry allowed himself a smile. The Dark Git was actually trying. How amazing.

As the young man approached, Voldemort took in his appearance. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Trouble was wearing a red robe that opened up in the front to show the knee-length red shorts and black button-up he was wearing underneath. He was barefoot like the Dark Lord. Voldemort supposed that all this red was the closest he would ever get to seeing his boy drenched in his enemies’ blood like he was supposed to be.

Harry stood up on the tips of his toes and kissed the Dark Lord’s lipless mouth.

They talked about everything and nothing during the dinner. What Harry would do when he went back to his friends. What Voldemort would do after Harry left. What Harry would do after school. How he was welcome to come back to Voldemort, of his own free will, whenever he wanted. How no Death Eater would ever be allowed to cause Harry any harm or pain in any shape and form after today. How Harry was the most precious thing to ever walk the Earth. How Voldemort was not so bad if you looked past all the mass murdering and the general insanity.

When they finally joined, body and soul, that night, Voldemort could honestly say that he had never been happier in his whole life.

And when Harry prepared to leave the next morning, Voldemort could honestly say that he had never been more heart-broken in his whole life.

The Dark Lord handed Harry his holly wand and, before the boy could apparate away, he took the younger’s hands and looked him in the eye.

_:You can come back.:_ Voldemort said. _:You can come back whenever you want. You always have a place here. Always.:_

_:Why?:_ Harry whispered, eyes hooded and lips only centimeters away from Voldemort's.

_:Because I love you:_ the Dark Lord answered before sending him away with a wave of his wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, haha, erm, how was it? Please comment. I live for that shit! It's ma drug! xD


	3. To Sweet Deceit, Sweeter Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crack has returned! Somehow. Even I am confused. I was listening to a sad song on loop while writing this.   
> Also, apparently last chapter made some of you sad. I don't really know why. I certainly didn't feel sad. Just really intense. But I'm always happy to elicit emotion. Thank you for your encouraging comments.  
> Now, enjoy!

When Harry opened his eyes, he was standing in front of Hogwarts’ main gate, still in last night’s blood red robes. His mind was reeling from what he had just heard and, for a long while, he did nothing but stand and stare at the gate. It wasn’t until a panicked Hermione showed up and started dragging him towards the Hog’s Head that he finally snapped out of his daze.

“What are you doing, Hermione?” he asked as he stopped. She looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“What am _I_ doing?” she asked back, voice laced with fear. “For fuck’s sake, Harry. What are _you_ doing? You’re standing out here in the open where any Death Eater can see you. I don’t know how you escaped Voldemort alive, but let’s try to keep it that way, okay?” She started dragging him again and he stopped again.

“I didn’t escape,” Harry said. He turned around and dragged Hermione with him towards Hogwarts. Ron appeared to block his way. The hurt in his eyes made Harry’s stomach twist in guilt. But that could be remedied soon enough.

“So, you didn’t escape,” Ron said. “And what? That makes it okay for you to betray us to You-Know-Who? Or are you gonna tell me you’re under the Imperius? Because we both know that doesn’t work on you, mate.”

“No, I’m not under the Imperius, but you have to listen to me,” Harry tried.

“No! You listen to me, you filthy little bastard!” Ron yelled. “You were my best mate. Now, look at you! You’re wearing these expensive robes and, since no Death Eater has shown up yet, you must be free to roam around as you please. I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have done to earn this. What, did you pledge yourself to his cause? Did you?”

“No,” Harry said in a low voice, dropping Hermione’s hand. “I just gave him my body once to buy your freedom.”

Then he ran and ran and ran until he found himself in the Gryffindor common room. Harry hadn’t even noticed when he had entered Hogwarts. And here he had thought that coming back to Hogwarts would be the single most amazing thing in the world. He was finally back home and all he could do was fall to his knees and cry and cry over how little Ron thought of him. How many tears had Harry wasted for that moronic boy? How many more would he have to waste? What did Hermione see in him, anyways?

Harry was alone in the Gryffindor common room since the holidays weren’t quite over yet. With how long he had spent in his bubble, Harry would have thought that a lot more time had passed. What he wouldn’t have given to have Ginny there.

He curled up in front of the fireplace and picked at the lace on the bottom of his robe. It truly was a masterpiece. Red and made entirely out of lace and silk lining. Harry loved it. Yesterday, it had seemed like he had covered himself in blood when he had donned the red. Today, it seemed that he was covered in the Dark Lord’s passion, an embrace that offered him a poor imitation of the solace Tom had provided him with over the past few months.

He must’ve fallen asleep because, when he woke up to someone shaking him, it was already dark outside. Harry looked up to find Hermione crouched over him and Ron standing at her shoulder, worry painting their faces.

“I’m sorry, mate.” Ron immediately apologised. “I really thought you were gonna hand her over to the Dark Lord. I just get so irrational when it comes to her, y’know.” Harry did know. It was why he had left them the first time. Ron was stupid like that, sometimes. The big oaf knelt by Harry’s side and pulled the latter in a bone-crushing hug. “I really thought you’d died, idiot. You really are the Git-Who-Lived.”

And like that, Harry again forgot why he had been angry in the first place.

“Shut up, you Ginger Jackarse,” Harry sobbed into his shoulder.

“Harry,” Hermione cut in. “You said you gave him your body. How are you? You don’t have to hide anything from us. We’ll listen to everything. We won’t judge. I promise. Right, Ron?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, mate.” Ron said, a determined expression on his face. “We won’t judge you. No matter what he did to you, none of it was your fault. Me and Hermione, we’ll kick anyone who tries to say the opposite. Promise.”

Harry was overwhelmed by the feeling of gratitude for his two best friends’ very existence. Ron’s reaction, Harry realised, was only mild compared to what he would soon have to face from the rest of the wizarding world.

“It wasn’t as bad as you’re thinking,” he started. “He treated me like a treasure and kept me in a protective bubble the whole time. He treated me like I was his family. And I guess I am since we’re both related to the Peverells. We’re probably distant cousins somehow.”

“But, even if you _are_ kin, why would he treat you so well when he’s been trying to kill you since you were one?” Hermione asked. Harry had dreaded that question, but he knew that they needed to know.

“Because, that night, when the Killing curse rebounded, a part of his soul tore off and attached to me, making me a horcrux.” Harry paused a few seconds for dramatic effect. “I, Harry James Potter, am Lord Voldemort’s seventh and final Horcrux.”

Hermione gasped and put her hands to her mouth. Ron paled and his eyes glazed over. All things considered, Harry thought that they were taking the news rather well.

“It’s not just the Horcrux though,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “This morning, as I left him, he told me something. Something that has me so flabbergasted, I’m not sure it even happened.”

“What… What did he say?” Hermione dared to ask.

“He said ‘I love you’”

Harry laughed as Ron promptly fainted and Hermione turned a deep green.

***

Two weeks later, school had started again and Harry, Ron, and Hermione once again walked the halls as students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to complete their seventh and final year of education. Hermione had been offered the position of Head Girl and the Head Boy was a Ravenclaw Harry had never taken notice of.

When Ginny hadn’t shown up on the first day of school, Ron had answered Harry’s look by telling him that the red-headed witch had been sent to Beauxbatons at Fleur’s insistence. Ron told Harry that, if Fleur had had anything to do with it, he would also have been shipped off to France. Fortunately, Ron had been of Wizarding majority and independent for a long time by then. Harry regretted not seeing Ginny this year, but he could stick out one year and wait to be re-united with her.

Unfortunately, Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Fate’s-Punching-Bag.

It happened in the middle of DADA class or, as it had been renamed, Dark Arts. Harry was practicing the Entrail Expelling curse on a rat (He didn’t know if he should feel sorry or think ‘Sweet revenge, fucking rodents!’, in light of Wormtail’s sacrifice) when he suddenly felt the urge to throw up all his breakfast. He grabbed the nearest recipient, Professor Carrow’s hat, and threw everything up.

Now, Amycus Carrow was a lot of things, but patient he was not. A student throwing up in his hat should have been rewarded with the cane and three days’ worth of detention. Yet, when Harry James Potter threw up in the Professor’s hat, the older man only patted his back with a vaguely panicked expression on his face, telling him to let it all out. And when Harry James Potter fainted, Professor Carrow did not slap him awake. Instead, he picked up the boy and practically flew out of the room, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood hot on his trails.

Madam Pomfrey let out an undignified shriek when the procession barged into the hospital wing. You’ll have to forgive her. The recent war had made her a lot jumpier than she used to be. That, however, did not stop her from immediately attending to Harry when she noticed the state he was in. She ran a diagnostic spell and tilted her head to the side in confusion when the results came back. Hermione glanced at the parchment over her shoulder and also tilted her head.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ron asked.

“Err…” Hermione answered. “It says here, he’s pregnant?” The last part came out as a question because Hermione couldn’t quite believe what she was reading. Surprisingly, Ron was more level-headed in this situation.

“Soooo… Erm, I’m guessing it’s, er, hm, _his_.” Ron said. He was pink in the ears and had taken a sudden interest in his shoes.

“Yeah. Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Hermione answered.

“Well, whoever the father is, he must immediately be informed.” Madam Pomfrey said.

“We should probably ask Harry if he wants to keep it first,” Luna pointed out.

“Of course he’ll keep it!” Professor Carrow exclaimed. “It’s the Dark Lord’s child!” 

Madam Pomfrey shrieked and fainted.

“Okay, first of all,” Hermione said in a deadly-sounding voice. “How do you know this child is your Lord’s? And second of all, your Lord has yet to modify the law stating that the mother is the one who decides whether he or she wants to keep the child or not.”

“I want it.” Harry had been woken up in the middle of her tirade by Madam Pomfrey's shriek. “I want this baby, Hermione.”

“But, Harry, he raped-“

“He didn’t rape me. I consented. I wanted it too.”

“Harry, he coerced you into it. You can hardly call it consensual when you only gave yourself up to obtain our freedoms.”

“It doesn’t matter, Hermione. Even if he had not offered something in return, I would’ve eventually given in, had he decided to truly pursue me.”

“But… Why?” Hermione asked, slightly green in the face. Harry gave her a defeated look and turned his back on her.

“Because I do feel something, something I don’t understand for him.” Harry finally said in a low voice. He then turned to Professor Carrow.

“Professor, how do you know that this child is the Dark Lord’s?” Harry asked, dreading the answer.

“Erm, my Lord told me that you would be expecting his child when you returned to Hogwarts and that I was to care for you in any way possible,” the man answered, slightly confused. “I thought you knew.”

Harry turned his head and groaned into the pillow. The ploy was so obvious now. The Dark Git had probably laced his food or drink with the pregnancy potion. _That_ was why he had insisted on romancing Harry before taking him. He huffed and turned back to Professor Carrow.

“Go tell your Lord that his ploy was smart and successful but completely unnecessary.” Harry said, imperiously. “Also, I expect him to come here soon and get down on his knees.”

Amycus Carrow swallowed and ran as fast as he could to get out of Hogwarts’ Anti-Apparition wards and deliver the “good” news to his Lord.

***

As expected, Professor Carrow was duly rewarded with an off-hand _Crucio_. Nagini hissed in laughter and writhed in what seemed to be her form of rolling on the floor laughing. Delphini, despite not understanding what was going on, giggled as she held on to the snake’s tail and was waved about like a human flag.

Seriously! That child had been with Harry for barely two days and already she was as aggravating as the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Vex. Voldemort had often lifted his wand to hex the little devil but, each time he tried, he found himself cooing at her instead before regaining his mind 5 minutes later and tossing the child back into Nagini’s bubble. It seemed that, instead of taking after her own mother, Delphini had instead taken after her foster-parent of two days. None of Bellatrix appeared in the child's physique and all of her few-week-old-personality shone of Harry. A small part of Voldemort wondered what he would do if both his children turned out to have Hero complexes and intense needs to put others before themselves, just like Harry.

A bigger part couldn’t care less as long as they were all within the reach of his protection. He could deal with vexing personalities. The idea of their deaths was something he was not comfortable even contemplating.

_:What will you do?:_ Nagini finally asked, between giggles.

_:Kneel.:_ Voldemort deadpanned. Nagini finally silenced, her eyes bugging out.

Voldemort smirked and left the room. _Well,_ that _shut her up!_

***

Voldemort knew he had told Nagini that he would kneel but that didn’t make it any easier. He now stood at Hogwarts’ main gates, trying to figure a way out of this without looking like he chickened out. Although, he supposed he could chicken out and no one would say anything for fear of finding themselves at the wrong end of an _Avada Kedavra_.

The snake-man swallowed and pushed the gates open. Lord Voldemort was no chicken.

As he walked through the halls, children either did a double-take or stopped and stared. He sneered at a few but resolutely made his way to Headmistress McGonagall’s office. He would’ve had her removed from that position but none of his current Death Eaters were even remotely capable of overseeing children’s education. The kids were the wizarding world’s future. It would not do to have them come out stupid because of someone’s incompetence. Minerva was competent. She would do just fine until he could find some sort of proper replacement.

Then she would die, peacefully in her sleep. She was old enough for that. Probably.

Voldemort found Headmistress McGonagall trying to reason with Fawkes about the merits of exercising. It seemed that the flaming chicken had gotten a tad larger around the belly.

“I say he’s the right shape for slaughtering. Let’s cut off his head and make chicken stew.” Voldemort said, standing right behind her. The Headmistress jumped back in surprise and, if Voldemort had had a nose, it would’ve been broken by now.

“Ow!” he said, eyes watering. McGonagall huffed and raised her chin, haughtily.

“Well, that’s what you get for surprising me like that,” she stated. “A smart man like you should have known to duck if you were going to prank me.”

“I _wouldn’t_ know!” Voldemort answered. “I’ve never had the opportunity to actually prank anyone before. Neither have I ever felt the need to.”

“I dare say,” McGonagall stated, a slight expression of wonder on her face. “Harry’s personality may have rubbed off on you. You sound a lot more like Harry Potter than the Tom Riddle I saw in those memories.”

“Harry has that effect, yes.” Voldemort sneered. “My own daughter acts nothing like her mother or myself. She’s like a mini Harry Potter. Keeps me up at night wondering what I’ll do if she turns out insufferable like him.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let Harry raise her.” Minerva retorted.

“Bullshit!” Voldemort spat out. “They barely spent two days together. You can’t call that raising a kid.”

Minerva chuckled. She liked this new version of Voldemort. The man hadn’t even taken offense to being called ‘Tom Riddle’.

“Why are you here, Tom?” Dumbledore asked from his portrait, behind McGonagall. Somehow, the artist had managed to capture the old coot’s annoying eye-twinkle. And boy, was it twinkling hard at this very moment. Like the barmy codger knew why Voldemort was here. Voldemort looked around the office and pointed to a silver trinket in one of the corners.

“What does that do?”

“Stop stalling for time, my boy.”

Voldemort looked to McGonagall. He could feel himself going pink in the face.

“Do something about that nosey parker!” the Dark Lord ordered.

“Just answer his question, Mr. Riddle. It’s not that hard and I was about to ask you the same thing,” Minerva pointed out. Voldemort fidgeted a little before finally answering in a voice that should be called a whisper with how hard all the headmasters and headmistresses had to strain to hear it.

“I’m here to see Harry.”

“Oh. Yes, I heard about that,” Snape drawled. “Quite the predicament, isn’t it, _My Lord_?” The last part was sneered out with such venom, Voldemort found himself starting to feel the beginnings of his famous temper stir.

“Tell me, _my Lord_ ,” Snape continued in a voice that seemed to be hell-bent on bringing out Voldemort’s worst sides. “Did you, at any point in time, feel any guilt for raping that child? Have you not ruined him enough that you just _had_ to go and get him pregnant against his will?”

The man had gone from drawling to screaming in the space of a few sentences and Voldemort was preparing to snarl that he had not in fact raped Harry and that it had been entirely consensual when he was interrupted by the arrival of the afore-mentioned Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-The-Apple-Of-Discord.

“He did not rape me, Professor,” Harry said in a pacifying tone. “It was entirely consensual. Even if I say that I did it in exchange for my freedom, I would’ve given in if he had simply told me that he wanted to be with me.”

Harry’s arrival and his statement worked as a diffusing switch to Voldemort’s anger. He found himself only able to focus on the boy, a smile on his face. It was as if everything else, everyone else had just fallen off the earth. This idiocy was precisely why Voldemort had wanted to do away with love entirely. Harry just made him brainless.

“But he _did_ get me pregnant against my will. And he has come to receive punishment for that, right Tom?”

That shocked Voldemort back to reality and the smile slid off his face like it had never been there before. He groaned and would later swear that, even though he had his back turned to the barmy wizard, he could _feel_ Dumbledore trying to hide his laughter. Snape had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Erm, yes?” Voldemort answered, feeling very much like a school boy who was being chastised.

“Well then, on your knees with your hands raised in the air. Chop, chop.” Harry said, all too cheerfully. "Stay like that for 10 minutes, while I think about what the rest of your punishment should be."

Voldemort made a face like he had been forced suck on ten particularly sour lemons but did as he was told, anyways. McGonagall coughed as she tried to cover her laughter. It made her look like she was choking on something but Voldemort was not fooled. He had not earned the title of genius just like that.

“This doesn’t leave this office, right?” he asked Harry.

“I promise,” the boy answered.

Snape raised both his arms to the air in a victorious gesture that reminded McGonagall of the Marauders. “I promise nothing!” he declared before promptly running out of his painting.

“Oh, dear.” Dumbledore said amidst giggles. “I’d better go after him before he informs all the paintings of this whole debacle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Please leave comments! They spur me into writing faster! Also, I just happened to have a bit more time. It's my weekend off work! Yay! I'm so happy, exclamation points are everywhere! XD


	4. Bliss, I Deny Thee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, back after almost a month and I do this.

As it turned out, the rest of Voldemort’s punishment was, basically, just him running at Harry’s beck and call for the duration of the pregnancy. When Harry wanted sardine ice cream, he had to threaten Fortescue’s into inventing the goddamn flavor. When Harry’s feet were swollen, he had to drop everything and give them a good rub to relieve the pain.

The worst part was that Harry’s cravings always happened around midnight. So, in addition to a wailing brat, Voldemort also had a pregnant boy to care for. He barely slept in between and Death Eater meetings often found him snoring quietly in the middle of particularly boring reports. Lucius Malfoy had even found the man drooling on his paperwork once.

“It doesn’t leave this room,” Voldemort had said quietly when the blond had woken him up. Lucius vehemently shook his head in the affirmative. After Snape’s tattle-taling, the Dark Lord’s tolerance for fools who couldn’t keep their mouths shut had dwindled greatly. The whole school knew of the kneeling business now.

***

Harry rubbed his belly to soothe the baby who was kicking while Professor Alecto Carrow was giving yet another lecture about how muggles were inferior to wizards and needed to be brought to heel. This particular lecture even included graphics detailing how one might go about taming their own pet muggle. At thirty-two weeks, Harry looked like he was constantly lugging a beach ball around. Except that the baby was much heavier and significantly more painful.

“I wish you’d stop speaking for a while,” Harry said. “Your droning is making the baby agitated.”

Professor Carrow blanched and immediately shut her mouth, waiting for the signal to start her lecture again. Harry smirked and got up to leave the class. Ron, who had been assigned by Voldemort to protect Harry and the baby with his life, picked up his and Harry’s books and followed the other boy out. By the time he reached Harry, the redhead was struggling to breathe through his laughter.

“Ah, the advantages of your best mate banging the Dark Lord,” he chortled.

Harry dusted his shoulders and made a victory sign before leading the way back to Gryffindor tower.

“Think she’s still waiting for you to give the go-ahead?” Ron asked as he settled next to Harry on the couch.

“Only time and Hermione can tell us,” Harry answered. Bully-the-Carrows had quickly become one of Harry’s favorite pass-times after coming back to Hogwarts. The other students certainly seemed to appreciate it. Draco Malfoy had even gone so far as to make a hand-heart at him while maintaining a straight face. The Carrows seemed to unite the Four Houses in a way nothing else had ever managed to.

“Oh, would you look at that. It’s the Dark Lord’s whore.”

Harry sighed and turned around to face Seamus Finnigan. The Irish boy had been sending hate-filled glares at Harry ever since he’d found out that Harry’s child was also Voldemort’s. Most of the other Gryffindors had taken it in stride but Seamus refused to let it go. Behind him, an exasperated Dean sent Harry an apologetic look. The boy, along with a few muggleborns, had been allowed back to Hogwarts following a very heated discussion between Voldemort and Harry. A discussion that had, somehow, involved a lot of black silk and wandering hands. The point was that Dean was very grateful to Harry and was now working very hard to keep Seamus in line.

“Seamus, that’s uncalled for,” Dean hissed. He tugged on Seamus’ robe sleeve, trying to get him to leave the common room. Ron went red in the ears but stayed seated. He’d beaten Seamus up quite a few times over the past few weeks and was starting to develop some sort of tolerance for the other boy’s crap. Harry was rather proud of it, a fact that was not lost on the redhead. It even seemed to encourage Ron to be a better person.

“Whatever, Dean,” Ron said. “If we stopped to scold every random dog barking down the street, we’d never get anything done. Harry and I have homework to do. Take your pet for a walk or something.”

Harry snorted and Seamus grew very red in the face, fists balling at his sides. But before he could do or say anything else, Dean threw him over a shoulder and ran straight out the Fat Lady’s portrait. Harry turned to Ron, a look of shock on his face.

“Did he just do that?” he asked.

Ron bit his thumbnail in a contemplative gesture before answering very seriously.

“I think he did.”

They started on their homework in silence. Eventually Ron could not keep it in anymore and was forced to bend over in raucous laughter. Harry pinched his lips in an attempt to last a little longer but it hardly worked at all.

***

Voldemort glared at the calendar, daring the days to go any slower. In their bubble, Nagini and Delphini stared curiously over his shoulder.

 _:Erm, what are we trying to accomplish, exactly, by having a staring contest with a calendar?”_ Nagini asked. Delphini cooed in agreement.

 _:Harry’s due date is coming up:_ Voldemort answered. _:But it seems that time has taken it upon itself to torture me. The days are so. Fucking. Slow!:_

Nagini rolled her eyes at him and went back to paying attention to the babbling baby. Nagini would always remember the next few moments as definitive proof that two-leggers were all off their rockers.

A glowing white stag ran into the room and calmly spoke in Harry’s voice.

“I am currently in labour. I’d be much obliged if you would deign to be present for the birth of your FUCKING DEMON SPAWN!”

Alright, the ending was more a banshee scream than anything else.

Voldemort meeped and ran out the door to apparate outside his wards. Apparently, he had forgotten that he could just shift the wards around his home to allow himself to apparate from his own office. Nagini slithered into a hug around Delphini and started to rock the baby to sleep.

 _:Your father just meeped,:_ she told the hatchling. _:I’m never letting him live that down.:_

Delphini giggled in response.

***

Tom James Riddle was his father’s son. After hours of torturing his mother, he was born perfectly healthy. He cried once to signal that he was alive, sneered at the healer, and reached for his mother to be fed. He opened his eyes, one red and one green, briefly, just to see what his mother looked like, before latching on to the baby bottle’s nipple and sucking hungrily. Harry snorted while Voldemort flexed his left hand and ran his right hand through the boy’s sweaty black hair.

 _:You’ve done well,:_ he told Harry. _:I can feed him while you rest. You deserve it.:_

Harry smiled at him and handed the baby boy to his father.

 _:His name is Tom James Riddle.:_ Harry said. _:Tom for his father. James for my father.:_

_:Harry-:_

_:It’s not up for discussion, Tom.:_

_:But, darling:_ Voldemort outright whined. _:You call me Tom, too. This is going to get way too confusing. Let’s pick something else, yes?:_

Harry blinked once, then twice. _:Alright,:_ he relented. Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief. _: **Thomas** James Riddle, then. Tom for short: _ And then, Harry promptly fell asleep, effectively ending the conversation. At Voldemort’s shoulder, the healer asked in a small voice:

“What… er… What should I, um, put on the- on the birth certi- certificate?”

“Thomas James Riddle.” the Dark Lord answered with a sneer. “You’ll fucking put goddamn Thomas James Riddle on the bloody birth certificate.”

The healer blinked a few times before asking: “How- How do you want to write ‘goddamn’?”

***

“TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Harry screamed as he barged into the Death Eater meeting, a baby on each hip. Voldemort immediately jumped up and hid behind his throne. He felt no shame. This was a matter of survival.

“What’d I do, now?” he called from behind the chair. Most of the death eaters had, wisely, crawled underneath the table or their seats. Bella sat still and glared at Harry. Ever since Thomas’ birth, Bellatrix had grown increasingly tetchy and Harry and his little boy seemed to be the main subjects of her ire. So far, she’d yet to do anything to either of them, but Harry had a feeling it was only a matter of time.

“I am going back to school for the last few weeks of my education.” Harry whispered, murderously. “I swear to all the Gods that exist, if you dare leave our kids with house elves all that time, I will fucking murder you in your sleep!”

Voldemort really had nothing to say to that. He _had_ been ‘working’ late these past few days and leaving Delphini and Thomas to Harry and his house elves. Admittedly, he had been taking advantage of Harry’s presence and good nature. He was hoping, like all fathers did, that Harry would be so engrossed in childcare that he would not notice his absence which could mean good few hours of sleep for the Dark Lord. No such luck. Harry noticed and Voldemort would probably pay in blood, sweat, and tears.

“The meeting is adjourned!” he called from behind his throne. The Death Eaters quickly vacated the premises and Voldemort hastened to leave the security of his throne to face Harry’s wrath. It was only then that he noticed that Bellatrix had yet to leave. He frowned at her and was about to ask her to leave the room when she snarled at him, wordlessly. He recoiled, taken aback by the sudden insubordination of his most loyal lieutenant.

“What’s wrong with _you_?” he asked, curiously. “Woke up on the wrong side of crazy?”

“What’s wrong with _me_?” she growled. “What’s wrong with _you_? When did you become this- this whipped, hen-pecked man? Do you have no shame? No dignity left?!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Harry interrupted. “What are you even talking about? Tom is _not_ hen-pecked.”

“What he said,” Voldemort confirmed with a nod.

“A hen-pecked man wouldn’t abandon me with two babies for three days straight!”

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord.” Voldemort said as he bowed at the waist. “From this day on, I shall be hen-pecked and proud to be so.” Harry snorted and fought a smile.

“No.” he said, sobering up a bit. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make me laugh right now.”

“I understand, my lord,” Voldemort answered with a crooked grin. “I shall walk straight to our private wing and await my punishment obediently. Please choose a suitable punishment at your leisure. I shall attempt to cook without blowing up your kitchen in the meantime.”

“Oh dear,” Harry’s eyes widened in horror at the memory of Voldemort in the kitchen. “Please don’t. I’m begging you. Stay away from my kitchen.”

“I love you,” Voldemort answered with finger-hearts.

Bellatrix screamed at their overt display of affection and threw a glass across the room. It shattered only a few centimetres from Harry and the babies. Voldemort grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her into a wall. He snarled at her and knocked her forehead into the wall a few times, drawing blood, before pulling her back by the hair.

“The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing to my family, bitch?” he growled in her ear. He brought a knee up to her gut and watched her fall to the ground, curling in on herself. Her pain satisfied him greatly and it seemed he was not the only one enjoying it. Delphini clapped and giggled. Voldemort turned back to see Harry turn an ashen shade while Thomas looked on calmly. Admittedly, he probably didn’t see much of anything with his newborn eyesight. Harry carefully put both children on the table and ran to the nearest potted plant to empty his guts in it.

Voldemort sighed. He had not thought about how his fragile horcrux would react to unnecessary violence. War veteran though he was, Harry had never been more violent than absolutely necessary. He had never even killed, despite being one of the main targets of violence. He walked over to the young mother and rubbed his back. One of Harry’s sun-kissed hands came up to catch his and intermingle their fingers.

“Try- Try not to do that kind of thing in front of the kids,” he rasped. “Terrible influence.”

“Well, they do have a terrible father,” Voldemort answered.

“No jokes, Tom,” Harry plead. “Promise me.” Voldemort stared at his Horcrux’s watery expression and sighed.

“How can I refuse if you make that face?”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. He took Voldemort’s face in his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “I love you, Tom. I really do. No matter what.”

In hindsight, Voldemort always wondered if Harry had instinctually known what would happen next. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Cause-Heartbreak had never once professed his love to Voldemort. They had been together for nearly a year now. And Harry had never once said “I love you”. Voldemort had assumed that Harry simply did not return his feelings despite enjoying his company. But, in that wretched moment, on that accursed day, Harry finally answered Voldemort’s prayers before looking over his shoulder and pushing the Dark Lord to the ground.

Before Voldemort could even process what was happening, Harry had run over to his children screaming “Not my baby!” before falling to the floor like a rag doll. Delphini wailed and Thomas stared at Bellatrix right in the eye as she attempted to curse him dead.

And, _of course_ , the curse bounced back because Thomas James Riddle was Harry Potter’s son.

And Harry James Potter was Lily Potter’s son.

Harry James Potter was Lily Potter’s son.

“No,” Voldemort whispered. He got up and ran to where Lily’s son was lying on the floor. Harry Potter, carbon copy of James Potter, had never looked more like his mother than he did in that moment, green eyes staring unseeingly at Voldemort. The Dark Lord could not bring himself to touch his lover, fearing that, if he did, he would feel Harry’s rapidly cooling corpse.

“No,” he whispered again. “You can’t. You can’t. This is not acceptable. You are not allowed to die! You are MY horcrux. You _cannot_ leave as you please. You belong to me. You _must_ obey! This is not ACCEPTABLE!”

Then, Voldemort did touch Harry, just to shove him so he would be alert again. The Dark Lord shoved and slapped and pinched and shook. Anything to get Harry to move again. Nothing. Nothing. A lot of nothing happened. Nothing! _Nothing!_ NOTHING! Voldemort’s face was drenched with snot and tears and yet, despite claiming to love him, Harry did absolutely nothing. He did not move, blink, speak, or even breathe. He did nothing! Voldemort screamed and begged and denied and bargained until the Death Eaters gathered back into the meeting room. And even then, he did not stop. The Death Eaters, after reigning in their initial shock, stood vigil over their Lord’s grief well into the early hours of the next day. Eventually, Voldemort’s voice was barely a rasp and his eyes would no longer stay open. His body finally gave in to exhaustion and Lucius Malfoy carried him to his bed.

Harry’s corpse was left untouched and kept in stasis, Death Eaters guarding his body in turns until their Lord was ready to face it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me. T-T


	5. You Deserve No Less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me! Your comments set me on fire! Two chapters in two days! Enjoy! XD (I need to lay off the exclamation points.)

Voldemort opened his eyes to a bright light. A glass ceiling, he realised. He looked around and saw the Hogwarts Express idling on the tracks, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. King’s Cross, then.

He was sitting there, the Boy-Who-Lived, on a stupidly green bench. It wasn’t even the same colour as his eyes. Voldemort walked to him and sat down. They remained seated in silence for a long while, neither breaking it. Then, Harry finally stirred. He pulled his silly, out-of-style glasses off his nose. Voldemort somehow knew that Harry no longer needed them. A pang of heart-wrenching sadness accompanied this knowledge. Harry opened his eyes and smiled at Voldemort.

“Tom,” he said. “I don’t suppose you came to see me off?”

“Off to where?” Voldemort asked, fearing the answer. Harry sighed and turned his attention to the glass ceiling.

“I could go back with you, I suppose,” he said instead of answering. “It’s rather tempting, you know. To go back and be with you and my kids. Have a long and happy life protected by you.”

“But you won’t,” Voldemort said in a broken whisper. “You won’t.”

Voldemort could feel the tears and snot picking right back up where they left off. He wept and sobbed because he knew that Harry wouldn’t go back, even though he could. He screamed and yelled at the empty station because Harry loved him enough that he wouldn’t go back. For Tom Marvolo Riddle’s sake, Harry James Potter would deny this opportunity and refuse to go back to his children, to his family.

Because Tom deserved no less.

“This is your chance, Tom.” Harry said through his tears. “If I leave, you have a real chance. Make things right. Save yourself. Come back to me, Tom. Come back to _us_.”

And, finally, Voldemort noticed other people standing behind Harry. A wizened old man with twinkling blue eyes and a mischievous smile. A sour, bat-like man with a sneer on his face. A woman whose eyes seemed to look in two different directions. And a young man who looked a lot like his younger self and seemed to be trying very hard to catch Voldemort’s attention. The last one, Voldemort stared at intently. When he realised that he was being given the desired attention, Tom Sr.’s face broke into a wide smile and he immediately pushed everyone out of the way to take Voldemort in his arms and swing him around as one would do to a little boy. And Voldemort realised that he _had_ , in fact, become a little boy. He looked down at his body and he was back to being little orphan Tom Riddle who stared out of his orphanage window hoping that his father would come for him today. Tom Sr. held his smaller body closer and rained kisses on his cheeks.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I have waited for this, Tom,” he said. Voldemort stared at his father in bewilderment. Tom Sr. laughed a hearty, happy laugh at his expression and rained more kisses on his cheeks. Voldemort tried to push away from this clingy man, but Tom Sr. would not let go, nuzzling into his dark curls.

“You hated me,” Tom, because he _was_ Tom, said in a small, broken voice. Tom Sr. squeezed him tighter.

“Of course not,” he denied, no hesitation in his voice. “I have _never_ hated you. My parents are another story, of course. But, me? I loved you the moment you stepped into that house.”

“Liar,” Tom whined as he tried to wriggle out of Tom Sr.’s arms. “They said so many horrible things and you just sat there, listening.”

“Ah,” Tom Sr. said, a sheepish smile on his face. “I wasn’t really listening. I was, mainly, looking at you and trying to determine if you had inherited anything from… _her_.” The ‘her’ was said with such distaste that Merope Gaunt flinched in the back.

“I was hoping you hadn’t inherited any of her, ah, _impediments_ ,” Tom Sr. continued. “And I was rather happy to note that you were a mini-me. If I _had_ heard any of what they had said, I would’ve probably taken you and run away from that stupid house.”

“You never came for me,” Tom insisted.

“Baby, we’re talking about the 1920s,” Tom Sr. said as if Tom were missing something important. “How in the world did you expect me to find you in an ever-growing sea of orphans. I had no magic and I never knew that there was magic that could be used to find you. I did try a private detective agency. A few, actually. But my parents grew suspicious and threatened to cut off my money supply. If that had happened, there would’ve been no way to find you. Nothing gets done without money in my world.”

“I concur,” Harry said. Tom Sr. flashed the boy a charming and grateful smile. Tom pulled on his father’s obsidian curls. “Ow! Jealous much, baby?”, Tom Sr. asked with a wicked smirk.

“Yes!” Tom answered. “Very, _very_ jealous!”

Tom Sr. blinked at him a few times, not expecting the honest reply. He adjusted Tom in his arms so that they were nose to nose. “Well, I’m jealous too. I never got to have my little boy and that imp has already stolen all of you from me.”

Tom’s face felt hot and he was certain that he was tomato-red. He hid himself in his father’s neck and the man seemed to radiate happiness at Tom’s gesture of trust.

“I love you,” Tom Sr. sighed, squeezing Tom to try and get the message across. “So, _soooo_ much, Tom. My baby. _My_ baby.”

In the corner of his vision, Tom saw Dumbledore shift and prod Snape who sneered at the old man with such disdain, it was a miracle the headmaster did not wilt and wither immediately. It was a testament to Dumbledore’s resilience and Tom found that he could respect that. Snape finally gave in and complied in a very Snape-like fashion. He grabbed Merope Gaunt by the collar and shoved her towards the two Toms. Tom Sr. sneered and tried to put as much space as possible between her and his son.

“I-I know,” Merope began, “that you’re not ready to f-forgive and-and forget.” Tom Sr. scoffed and hid his face in Tom’s hair. The little boy stared at her with an equal amount of distaste, remembering exactly what she had done to his father. His father who was now shaking a little around Tom, either in fear or anger or both.

“You raped him,” Tom said, a hard edge to his voice. Merope flinched at the utter loathing that rolled off her son in almost tangible waves. Tom Sr. held the little boy so close, Tom thought that, any further and his father would squeeze right into him.

“You-You’ve grown into s-such a handsome young man,” Merope said, as if she hadn’t heard Tom’s accusation. When Tom looked down at his body, he was indeed handsome, star pupil, Tom Riddle who manipulated every and any person he met, in an effort to protect his fragile, broken heart. In this form, he was slightly taller than Tom Sr., a fact that he used to his advantage by hiding the older man behind his back.

“There’s no way we’ll ever forgive you,” Tom stated, as if there was nothing more obvious in this world. “You knew what you were doing and you kept doing it over and over again. You didn’t stop because you felt guilt. You stopped because you thought that he wouldn’t be able to leave you with a baby in your womb!”

“I was rather confused,” Tom Sr. decided to explain from behind Tom’s back. “It felt like I had woken up from a terrifying nightmare and I just- I just wanted my mother.”

“My word, aren’t you such a great actor,” Merope suddenly said, face twisting in a sneer rivalling Snape’s. “You’d really have him believe that you are the purest, most innocent man on this earth, wouldn’t you? Don’t let yourself be fooled, Tom. This is a man who spent most of his life looking down on everyone who was not him or equal to him in wealth. If he’d gotten his hands on you, he would’ve raised you to be just as bad, if not worse.”

“In his defense,” Harry interrupted. “Tom grew up more terrible than anyone I have ever met, even without his father’s influence.” Harry got up from the bench and turned Merope to face him.

“Tom Sr.’s rotten personality still does not excuse you raping him. Repeatedly,” he stated before turning her back towards the Toms and walking back to the bench.

“What he said,” Tom confirmed.

“To think,” Snape drawled, “that I would live to see the day that the Dark Lord would become a whipped man.”

“You’re not alive,” Tom spat. Snape snapped his wrist in a whipping motion and made the accompanying sound. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled brighter as he pinched his lips together. Tom snarled and Tom Sr. grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t!” he warned, face twisting in an expression of abject misery. “Don’t rise to the bait. I did that a lot when I was younger. I provoked and was provoked and, as a result, _no one_ mourned me when I died. I hate seeing you doing the same things I did. I _hate_ seeing you follow in my footsteps. I _hate_ the idea that you could be like me in the end. Alone and unloved. My afterlife is so cold, Tom. You have no idea.”

His voice was breaking at the end and Tom looked at his father. Really looked. What he saw was greatly disturbing. Tom Sr.’s eyes became horribly dull anytime he was not looking at Tom. It was as if he was staring at a lot of nothing. As if he were not truly with them.

“He’s not completely here,” Dumbledore spoke for the first time. “Harry is the only one who is truly in the same place as you. The rest of us see very different things. What _do_ you see, Harry, my boy?”

“King’s cross and the Hogwarts Express,” Harry answered with a smile. Dumbledore sat next to him and Harry was a little boy, cuddling with his grandfather and settling in for a grand tale.

“For me, it was the house I grew up in,” Dumbledore told Harry. “Gellert and Arianna were waiting for me. They told me to go in and I was so shocked that Gellert keeled over, laughing. You see, they’d spent quite a lot of time convincing me to step out of the house when we were kids. I went in, and now, I’m here.”

“Where’s here?” asked Little Harry.

“I cannot tell you,” Dumbledore answered. Little Harry nodded, understanding the importance of secrets.

The train’s whistle was blown and Harry was back to being 18-year-old Harry James Potter, preparing to board the Hogwarts Express a final time.

_:No, not yet,:_ Tom plead. Harry gave him a look of confusion and Tom realised that Harry was no longer his Horcrux and could no longer understand him. He gave the Boy-Who-Lived a watery smile and a wave and Harry smiled back, wide, before stepping onto the train. As the Hogwarts Express started to pull out of the station, Harry poked his head out of the first cabin’s window and waved to the people he was leaving behind at the station. Tom’s heart clenched in his chest and both his parents took one of his hands. Tom squeezed back, appreciating the comfort despite still hating Merope with a passion and feeling conflicted about Tom Sr.

“Touching,” Snape muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do. Like pulling Sirius Black’s hair.” And, with a flourish of his cape, the sour Potions Master disappeared.

“Be well, Tom,” Dumbledore said as he hugged a wriggling Dark Lord. Then, he too disappeared.

“Don’t waste this chance, Tom,” Tom Sr., said with a sad smile and empty, blue eyes. He turned around and disappeared.

Merope and Tom remained alone and quiet on the platform for a long time after Tom Sr. left. Tom did not want to speak to her. He had only poisonous words for Merope Gaunt.

“I am, perhaps, your greatest offender,” Merope finally said. “Although I have wronged your father much more, I have wronged you terribly as well.”

“You should have never conceived me,” Tom said, bitterly. “At the very least, you could have had the decency to abort me instead of abandoning me to that horrible muggle orphanage.” Merope looked at the ground, in shame, Tom hoped.

“I could have never,” Merope said. “I loved you since the moment you were inside me.”

“I hate you,” Tom retorted, cruelly.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Go away,” Tom demanded. And she left.

Tom sat on the green bench and watched the empty station. Eventually, he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, possibly, the last you'll see of Harry. It never really struck me as fair that someone like Voldemort, someone who had destroyed so many families, ruined so many lives, could ever have a happy ending. Which is why, Voldemort will never have a happy ending. 
> 
> The same cannot be said of Tom Riddle, however. ;)


	6. Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was getting too tong! I had to cut it there!

Tom sat on the stone floor, glaring at the fire, and daring it to disobey him any further. His robe and shirt had long been discarded along with his shoes and socks, courtesy of the heat that currently suffocated the room. Tom had been working on the current potion for hours, now, and it was nowhere near finished. Meanwhile, the stupid fire had decided to rebel against him and was going between too hot and not hot enough, without ever settling for a middle ground. At this rate, Tom would have to scrap the potion altogether and start from scratch.

A shrill scream sounded through the house and Tom sighed, kicked the cauldron, killed the fire and vanished the potion. He made his way to the source of the noise and was unsurprised to see a naked Thomas running around with his panties on his head while Delphini and Sanely, the house-elf, chased him around. He sat cross-legged on the floor and removed the unicorn barrette that was holding up his godforsaken cowlick. Sanely was the first to notice him. The house-elf stopped abruptly and Delphini walked straight into him, toppling the both of them over. Tom bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing and waited till they’d both regained their bearings.

“Now that your slapstick routine is done,” he said, chin in his hands. “Would either of you be so kind as to tell me why Thomas is currently in his birthday suit and running around like a mad man?”

“He needs to be committed!” Delphini huffed. Thomas ran up to her, knocked her upside the head and ran into his father’s arms. Tom laughed, picked him up and twirled him around.

“He’s three, baby.” Tom told his little girl with a fond smile on his lips. “He doesn’t need to be committed. All three-year-olds are slightly crazy.” He knelt next to her a gave her a kiss on top of the head.

“I wasn’t that bad when I was his age,” Delphini argued, seemingly forgetting that she was also three, less than a year before. Tom snorted.

“Yes, well,” Tom said, amused. “You take after me. Your brother takes more after your mother.”

“No way!” Delphini said with a pout. “I refuse to believe that mummy was that uncouth.”

Tom blinked at her. His little girl certainly seemed to have taken after him. Where she had learned such words and how to use them correctly, Tom wasn’t sure. But she certainly was Tom Riddle’s daughter. He grinned at her and his eyes gained a mischievous glint.

“Your mummy was a piece of work,” he said and stuck his tongue out at her before running away with a giggling Thomas in his arms and laughter on his lips.

“Daddy!” she shrieked before giving chase, Sanely hot on her trails.

***

Later that night, when Tom was tucking Delphini in her pink monstrosity of a bed, the little girl meekly asked him a question he had hoped was still a long was off:

“What was mummy like?”

Tom’s breath caught in his throat and he repeatedly blinked in an effort to fight the tears that were starting to pool up. He swallowed, looked at his little princess and gave her a half-hearted smile.

“I’m not ready yet,” he told her in a slightly broken voice. She frowned in confusion.

“Ready for what, Daddy?”

“Later,” he answered. “Later, when you’re older and Thomas is older, I’ll tell you all about your mummy. I promise. Just. Not now, yeah?”

“Why not?” she pouted.

“Because Daddy’s gonna cry” he whispered. And although Delphini was barely four-years-old and full of curiosity about her mother, the thought of her dearest Daddy crying was enough to put her off the question.

Tom gave her a goodnight kiss and retreated to his room where Nagini had taken up permanent residence. The snake had gotten terribly old and had a hard time moving anymore. The spell that prevented her aging was long-removed and her years were now catching up to her rather quickly. She was on her last days and Tom could hardly bear to be in the same room as her. It hurt the great and kind snake very much but she did not complain. She knew that this was nothing more than Tom’s defense mechanism. The poor boy preferred burying his head in the sand to dealing with the pain.

_:Hey, girl,:_ Tom greeted her as he curled around her cold body.

_:Hello, ostrich,:_ she answered, amusement colouring her now-wispy voice. Tom blushed, but refused to acknowledge her comment.

_:It’s today, innit?:_ Tom asked. He kissed her head and brought her closer to his chest. _:I need to tell you lots of things, y’know?:_

_:How about you just shut up and let me have my peace?:_ she suggested instead. She knew that Tom wanted to thank her and go through all the heart-breaking process of apologising, speaking about making amends, promising to do better and begging her to reconsider her stance on the de-aging potion he had been working on for the past six weeks. But Nagini was tired. So, terribly tired. She had endured for who knows how long, only for Tom. She was content to leave in peace now because she knew he was ready to be without her. She also knew that he was a persuasive devil when he tried to be. Hence, it was best if he kept his mouth shut. Tom must’ve understood because, for the longest time after that, he stayed silent as tomb. Finally, as the first rays of the dawn sunlight filtered through the curtains, Tom said the one thing he knew would put her to rest:

_:You’re my mother. Even if you didn’t give birth to me, you are. You loved me even though I was unlovable. You nurtured me even though you had better things to do. You could have found a mate and had your own hatchling. But you chose me instead. No one chose me just for being me before you. No one loved me, truly loved me before you. You’re my mother. And I love you. More than anything… More than Harry.:_

_:More than Harry, eh?:_ she asked, chuckling. She forced her aching body into one last slither around his neck and chest. Tom sat up a little to allow her more ease and to avoid crushing her frail body. He waited for her to do something. Nagini laid her head on top of Tom’s messy, unruly curls.

_:My hatchling,:_ she said, painfully. Her voice was barely more than a whisper and Tom bit his lower lip to stop a sob from escaping him. Then she grew lax against him and Tom could no longer stop himself. He’d never thought that he could be sadder than when Harry had left him. But here he was, screaming in pain and sobbing in his room. He couldn’t even seem to bring himself to care that he hadn’t cast a silencing spell and his children could, most likely, hear him very well. He didn’t stop when Thomas and Delphini came running into the room and he cried even harder when they joined him, despite not knowing what was wrong.

***

“Papa, I swear to… Mum, I guess, that if you don’t get your arse out of this lab, right now, I will inflict a Thousand Years of Death, upon you!” Thomas threatened.

“A thousand years of what now?” Tom asked confused. He pulled his damnable cowlick out of the polka-dot ribbon barrette and absently started to pull his robes and clothes off. Thomas made a “wergh” sound and ran out of the room and Tom chuckled, because giggling is undignified. He took a shower, then stood, a towel around his waist, in front of his wardrobe, staring at it as if hoping that it would magically select his clothes for the day by itself.

“Papa, are read-” Thomas stopped mid-sentence and stared at him, an exasperated expression on his face. At eighteen, Thomas had retained much of his teenage sass. “Are you hoping the wardrobe will guess your tastes for the day and pick you something without you making any commands? Again?”

“Yes,” Tom deadpanned. Thomas groaned in frustration.

“Papa, what would you do if Delphi and I weren’t there?” Thomas whined. “I’m worried you’ll die if we ever move out!”

“Oh, please.” Tom answered with a small sneer. “I’m not that bad. I survived rather well before you two came along.”

“You had Nagini before we came along,” Thomas retorted with narrowed eyes.

“There’s no point discussing this. We’re not leaving until he dies.” Delphini decreed as she walked into the room. She walked up to the wardrobe and picked a suit, shirt, tie, and robe for her father. Tom grabbed a pair of underwear and walked back to the bathroom to get dressed. Thomas’ sensibilities should be spared. When he came out again, Delphini had a Daisy barrette and his glasses in hand. He picked up the glasses and allowed his daughter to tie his thrice-be-damned cowlick up. The eyes and the cowlick were probably the only parts of him that Tom hated about his reverting to this body.

_+++_

_When Tom woke up, he was surprised to find himself in the bed he shared with Harry. Hope bloomed in his chest. Perhaps this had all been a dream. A terrible nightmare that was finally over. In a moment, he would roll over and Harry would be sleeping peacefully besides him. Tom would wake his Sleeping Beauty with a kiss and make love to him, hot and desperate. Then, they would go to their children and spend the whole day with them. Tom would cancel all his meetings for that day. Perhaps, even, for the week. Yes. A vacation was well-deserved at this point._

_The hope was quickly dashed when he reached out and his fingers were met only with the cold sheets. Perhaps Harry was already out and about. Tom got up and ran to the walk-in closet to get ready. After that horrible dream, even a second spent without Harry was a second too many. Then Tom came to the full-body mirror in the closet and any hope that had still been festering in him was destroyed._

_Tom was human again. Handsome again. Just like in the dream._

_Just like when Harry had left him for good._

_Tom fell to his knees and cried a single, shocked tear as his whole world came crashing down around him. **Of course** it was real. **Of course** Harry had left him forever. **Of course** his children were motherless._

_Nagini slithered in and curled around his shoulders as he worked through his grief. She allowed him fifteen minutes of silenced before she spoke to him._

**_:Harry hasn’t been moved:_ ** _she told him. **:The two-leggers are too scared to move him without your permission. I don’t like it. The floor is cold.:**_

**_:They left him like that?:_ ** _Tom snarled. Nagini let out the snake equivalent of a sigh._

**_:Don’t be angry, hatchling:_ ** _she said. **:The two-leggers are very afraid of you. Perhaps they thought that you would make them feel pain with your little stick if they moved Harry.:**_

_Tom huffed and sprinted down to the meeting room. Nagini was right. The idiots had indeed left Harry on the cold, hard floor of the meeting room. Tom was seething and, when the two Death Eaters guarding Harry stopped him, he was right about close to murdering them. Never mind redeeming himself to be with Harry in the afterlife, or whatever._

_“Look here, boy,” one of the Death Eaters said. “I don’t know who you think you are, but only the Dark Lord gets to go further than this.” His partner nodded and Tom’s lips curled into a sneer that would have made Snape proud. Nagini slithered out of her hideout, beneath his robe and tasted the air._

**_:I suppose that, if you speak to me, they might fill their surface skin with excrement,:_ ** _she hissed. Tom looked at her in confusion for a moment, before it clicked._

**_:Ah!:_ ** _he hissed back, with a smirk upon his now-handsome features. **:You mean “shit their pants”. Where did you even learn that from?:**_

**_:Harry.:_ ** _she answered simply. The Death Eaters paled as they finally understood the identity of the man standing in front of them. Before they could start grovelling, Tom flicked a finger and they were sailing into opposite walls of the room. He dropped to the floor next to Harry and grabbed a cold hand, pressed a kiss into it, then lifted the boy in his arms. He apparated to Hogwarts and pointed his wand to the earth next to Dumbledore’s grave. It split and turned into a fresh grave. Tom transfigured a coffin from one of the trees surrounding the grove and placed Harry’s body into it. He gave the boy a final kiss before closing the lid and lowering the coffin into the grave which was then magically filled and that was it. That was Harry Potter’s funeral. A small, half-hearted affair that no one knew of and none but Tom would remember. No fanfare, no nation-wide mourning. Just Tom, Harry, a coffin, and a grave._

_Not out of spite. Tom could never feel anything even remotely resembling spite for Harry anymore. But, Harry’s funeral was a small affair because Tom did not see the point in celebrating his death. He did not see the point in doing anything special for that empty shell that used to house his Harry. It was not Harry and, while Harry deserved to be celebrated and held above everyone else, this shell deserved absolutely nothing. It was only out of respect for Harry’s memory and for the fact that it had been home to Harry’s soul, that the shell had even been given a decent burial._

_Once that was done, Tom apparated back to the meeting room and called an inner circle meeting through one of the still-unconscious Death Eaters’ Dark Mark. As his elite and most trusted lieutenants gathered into the meeting room, Tom waited next to the door. When the last of them had entered the room, he closed and locked the door with a snap of his wrist. The Death Eaters stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and the mild disgust that was the permanent feature of purebloods._

_“Well then,” Tom said. “Let’s not stand on ceremony.” Malfoy was the first to go. The Death Eaters all attempted to defend themselves, but Tom was Tom and they were all sent careening to their untimely deaths. It was a necessary evil, Tom told himself. Had they lived, even with Tom’s disappearance, the Death Eaters would have still been able to function without a hitch and they would still be terrorising wizarding Britain. They had to go for Harry’s world to become a reality._

_Harry…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the final one! Probably...


End file.
